What makes ours more pure?
Those golden eyes widened in terror, in twisted desperation.
“I’m sorry.” He gripped the druid’s hand tightly, holding it against his cheek, and the druid saw him—that scared, petulant little child, buried beneath the desires of a man.
What have I done to you?
The Vaich turned his face against his palm, lips grazing the druid’s chilled skin. It tingled, warm and wanting.
What are you doing to me?
“It’s my fault,” the Vaich whispered. “It’s all my fault you can’t go home. Please… come back to mine.”
Before the druid could answer, pain ripped through him. He doubled over, gripping his side.
“Lie down!” the Vaich instructed. He guided him back, sweeping aside the mantle to reveal the druid’s ribs and abdomen wrapped with bandages. There was no blood there, and yet the skin was deeply tender.
“You should rest, dinnae push yourself a-nis. It’ll be a hard ride in good condition. And that’s no condition of yours. This will help with the pain.” The Vaich brought a vial to the druid’s lips and at once the latter recoiled. He smelled meadowsweet and englebere. Neither of which he expected the king to know, let alone properly brew.
“Where did you get that?” he asked.
The Vaich looked worried. “Is something the matter with it?”
The druid took the vial, smelling its aroma. “This…” he muttered. “Did the Fíor give it to you?”
“No, I… There came a traveler… He said he could help with your mend I—”
“And you trusted him?”
The Vaich reddened, glancing away. “I… no, I… see… well I fought him, ken. And after—”
“Foughthim?”
“I thought he was come to hurt you, but he said he was skilled with herb. I… I didnae ken what else to do. You wouldnae wake. I couldnae move you, and even if I could, to who would I bring you? I’ve nothing to do here. I’ve nothing.”
The druid felt his heart churn with each word. Silently, he took up the vial and drank it down.
The Vaich tensed. “It’s alright, then?”
He supposed it might have been poisoned, but then, he’d likely already be dead.
An innocent traveler, perhaps.
“I should dictate my will, in case it be otherwise,” said the druid.
The Vaich growled. “Your humor is foul as a fewheling!”
The druid smiled. His skin was still saturated with the hint of a touch in which he had never known comfort. Now those hands brought him healing.
He wanted to hold the moment longer, yet it seeped away, and in its place was terror.
It wasn’t the creatures, these… Muuirn that frightened him so badly. But the haunting belief that he had met them before.
The druid gazed long into that broken womb.
“Do you believe someone can live two lives?” he whispered to the air.
“Two lives?” The Vaich said. “Suppose I might do if the prophecy holds true.”
